Reincarnate [Closed]

[Alaric von der Marck]

A L A R I C . V O N . D E R . M A R C K
It was one of those nights Alaric got the urge to wander. Wandering was dangerous, these days – if he strayed too far into the city, the barrage of noise and lights, the hive of minds and of technology overwhelmed him. The last thing he wanted was to be disoriented and stuck. Even the phone that had been given to him was left behind. The thing emitted a constant electrical buzz that was enough to send Alaric insane.

And yet, one day he would have to master his senses. He couldn’t remain the recluse that he was; he couldn’t live on the Estate and never leave. His preferences would always be the outskirts, the wilderness and the silence, but there might come nights where his presence was required further in. There might come nights that his family needed him. And thus he found himself lingering at Swansdale Station – even here, the lights and the noise were enough to cause a twitch, but not enough to scare Alaric away. He sat on one of the seats facing the platform, watching as the trains came and went. This station was relatively out of the way, and the main end of business rush complete, it was quiet enough, too.

When he’d first seen the trains, they’d been a marvel to him. No, first they’d terrified him – he’d thought they were monsters, screaming and rumbling toward him with the sound and fury of thunder and lightning. Now, he could marvel at them – at the ingenuity and the progression of technology. He knew that he wouldn’t get on. As much as the train stopped and the doors opened and passengers came and went, Alaric knew he would not, tonight, get onto one.

Until he saw her. Through one of the window, her skin warm and her hair shining – he saw Anja. The speed to which he got to his feet startled the nearby commuters. He almost had to be held back as he rushed toward the train that had not yet stopped. He pushed the button that had the doors swinging open in front of him, and just like that, he was on the train. He made his way down the carriage and didn’t quite know how to get the interconnecting door open. An elderly lady stood to press the button for him, and Alaric barely had time to smile at her before he was through. There, he could see the back of her head. Within seconds he was in front of her, he was on his knees.

Whatever English he’d learned flew out the window. Emotion clouted his senses. “Anja,” he said. “Wie bist du hier? Mein Gott, du bist es...“ he reached for Anja’s hand; he wanted to lift it to his lips and press a thankful kiss to the knuckles.

W E A R I N G

A N N A
Anna shivered as she stepped onto the street and quickly pulled her grey, woollen coat tight around her svelte figure. She made quick work of the buttons before cinching the belt around her waist and pulling a pair of mahogany colour gloves from her pocket. Locking the door took mere moments and the moment it was secured, she pocketed the keys, donned the gloves and headed for the station. Her hair, which she’d secured in a rather austere bun earlier that day, seemed none the worse despite the long hours she’d worked. The wind had pulled a few short stray of hair loose and continued to play with them as she walked but the moment she found any real shelter, they would easily be swept back in place with minimal effort. Sensible black heels clipped the sidewalk as she made her way to the nearest station. Her sole focus for the evening, simply to return home, feed her cats and take a long, hot bubble bath with a good book and a modest glass of red wine for company.

It was so easy to become lost among the masses as she moved around the city that she really didn’t give much thought to where she was going or what she was doing as she made her way home. Vigilance was not her middle name and despite the number of safety courses she’d been on, she still lacked a certain amount of street smarts. Tiredness and complacency only making matters worse for her on nights like this.

She’d found her way to the station, boarded the train and was currently flipping through the pages of a rather trashy romance novel; the kind most would be too embarrassed to read in public but to Anna spare time was a luxury not to be squandered, so she was rather unabashed in her novel choices.

She’d raised her head at the station, a habit more than anything else, in order to glean her location and make sure that she had not missed her stop, before swiftly losing herself once more among the pages.

The train was once more on the move when a man’s voice startled her. She folded the book in her lap and looked into the eyes of a complete stranger. A stranger that had seemingly butchered her name before prattling on in a language she had little hopes of deciphering.

“I’m sorry, but I think you must have me confused with someone else.”

Not waiting to hear his answer, she picked her book back up, her thumb having held the page and continued to read, effectively dismissing the man before her on bended knee.



A L A R I C . V O N . D E R . M A R C K
The pronouns were not missed, nor was the word ‘sorry’. That one he had come to understand. There was no recognition in her eyes – there was barely a hint of… well, anything. She looked tired, perhaps too tired to deal with Alaric. But Alaric was far too shaken to give up. Although she had turned back to her book, Alaric could not look away. Although it had been centuries since he had seen her, he could never forget. Anja had a softness to her features, naturally tanned skin and warm brown eyes that calmed him whenever he grew angry, or stressed. She had an easy smile and a patience unlike any other. There were small differences – something about the teeth, and the particular shade of the hair. But overall, he could not dismiss this woman. He could not stop thinking that it was his Anja, come back to him. He shook his head.

Again, he reached for her hand. He snatched it away from the book, her skin hot in his cool grasp. Human. It failed to make sense, on the surface, though underneath he knew that it could not be his Anja. He had seen her body in the coffin. If this was her, reincarnated – surely there had to be some memory?

“Bitte… please…” he said. Another staple, another word that he knew. It keened from his lips, a pleading so sincere. “Wie heißen Sie?“ What is your name? She did not understand. It was obvious. He pressed a hand to his chest. “Alaric von der Marck...“ he said, and then gestured to the woman. von der Marck. He was waiting for the name to register.



A N N A
One glove lay in her lap. The gloved hand held her book, while the other was used to turn the pages. Turning the pages while wearing any sort of covering, save for latex, was in her opinion an exercise in futility and was therefore to be avoided. She’d been teased by her co-workers for even carrying a novel in this day and age when a Kindle would have been far easier to carry and use, and yet she still found herself unable to buy one. There was something impersonal about reading print from an electronic page.

She startled once more when the man before her took her hand. She briefly looked around for help, but no-one seemed interested in them. At least none that were watching the spectacle were invested enough in the outcome to intervene on her behalf.

Anna’s mind began to race as she considered how she could exit such an awkward exchange without enraging the clearly confused male before her. She wondered if she would have to disembark at the next stop and take a taxi. She wondered if he’d follow her and as the thought echoed in her mind and panic was about to set in, she stopped. Everything stopped for her the moment she looked into his eyes. The tone of his words were not those of a mad man, but rather of someone in pain or perhaps desperation. A desperate man was a dangerous man and yet she didn’t see malice in his eyes. Had he been an animal, she’d likely have tucked him under her arm and taken him home, such was the look he was giving her but people were not strays. A fact she had to remind herself of as she cleared her throat.

“I’m very sorry,” her voice was gentler, more understanding as she replied this time, “but I do believe you have mistaken me for someone else. I do not know who you are.” While she’d had no intention of revealing her name, much less in a public space where everyone was clearly pretending not to be interested in their exchange, she found herself unable not to reply in kind. “My name is Anna Engel. Is there someone I can call for you?” she asked, wondering if perhaps the man was hallucinating and should in fact be hospitalised. He certainly didn’t seem the sort, what with the manner in which he was dressed but then mental illness didn’t discriminate by fashion sense.

[Anna (DELETED 8843)]

A L A R I C . V O N . D E R . M A R C K
The name did not register. Just as there was no recognition of his face, there was no recognition of the name, either. What did that mean? To Alaric, in his dazed mental meanderings, it meant that she was not part of the sprawling estate that he had created. It was a thought that was easily dismissed. She could still have been born from his blood and not recognise the name. It was a huge family. What he needed, now, was Judah.

Anna Engel she had said, and Alaric stored the name away, tucked it into a mental corner to give to his chronicler later. If anyone could find out if this woman was related to them all, it would be Judah. And yet, to think that this was a woman that he could not have, to think that she could be a descendant born of his own blood – could it matter? Would it matter? So many years had diluted the blood. And they would not be procreating. Would it matter to her? Of course, he was getting ahead of himself. Of course it mattered to her. Of course, there would have to be consent. And for now, here on this train, the tone of her voice – though sympathetic – was the tone of someone trying to rid themselves of a problem.

Alaric continued to stare, pained. He hated himself. All those weeks, months he’d had to learn this language and he still did not know enough to know what she was saying. If only he had worked harder, if only he had placed more importance on it. Then this would not be so hard. All he wanted to do was take her home, but the train was rumbling along beneath them. A disembodied voice called out the next station, and it was enough to startle Alaric out of his reverie. He was searching for the source of the voice, before his eyes alighted upon the windows. Outside, the city rushed past at a pace he couldn’t fathom. So many buildings. So many lights.

What had he done?

“Anna,” he repeated, turning back to the anchor in front of him. His grip tightened on her hand. He did not want to let her go. But nor did he want to frighten her. He forced himself to loosen his fingers, to let go of the hand he held for dear life. He looked at their broken digits like the world was ending. “Ich vermisse Dich,” he said, staring at her released hand, squeezing his eyes shut as the tears grew hot behind them. He stood and swayed, backing up so he could sit in the chair across from her. He didn’t know what to do – all he knew was that he didn’t want to lose sight of her.


A N N A
It was easy to get lost in the pleading eyes of the stranger as she tried to determine their colour in the harsh l false light about them. Where they blue? Green? Perhaps grey? It was a question she couldn’t seem to answer and yet as insignificant as the answer was, it seemed important to her. When he repeated her name, she smiled. It sounded somewhat exotic on his lips, and unfortunately somewhat common place on hers. Accents were a wondrous thing. A somewhat drugging thing. Or at least they had the potential to be, depending on what they were. His accent suited him somehow. Refined and yet rough.

As he released her hand she suddenly came to realise several things at once. Firstly, the strangers touch and closeness had not scared her. Secondly, she hadn’t realised he’d held her hand so long. Thirdly, his hand had been cold, meaning he likely had poor circulation or had been standing in the cold autumnal air for too long. Lastly, while she wasn’t the sort to shy away from people, she wasn’t the sort to allow such familiarity upon a first meeting and probably should have been reaching for her pepper spray.

Her book lay forgotten in her lap as she regarded the man that had introduced himself as Alaric. He’s seated himself across from her and while she didn’t know what to do with him, he wasn’t exactly her problem. Whoever he saw when he looked at her, it wasn’t her. He seemed to have come to accept that now. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she should inform someone that a confused individual was riding around the city’s train system. He might need help getting home. He could even require medical intervention. She softly shook her head, a small smile on her lips. No. He wasn’t ill. He had simply seen a ghost. Someone that wasn’t there. He likely just needed a little time to assimilate that fact.

Setting her book into her bag, she picked up her glove, set it back on her hand and pulled the strap of her handbag onto her shoulder as she stood. This was her stop, regardless of the fact that it actually wasn’t. She needed to get home and she needed to do so without the chance of this man following her like some wayward puppy.

“I hope you find who you are looking for,” she tells him as she lightly pats his shoulder before disembarking from the train car.



A L A R I C . V O N . D E R . M A R C K
As soon as he’d distanced himself, the world came rushing back in. The sound of the train rushing over the tracks and laughter coming from a group of teenagers in the next carriage as the doors swished open and slammed closed. Outside, a siren’s wail crescendoed before fading, the red and blue flashing only for a second as the ambulance disappeared beneath a bridge. The train was doused in darkness for a moment as it descended underground, as the breaks screeched and screamed as the carriages swayed, coming to a slowing stop.

Alaric had lost sense of time; his mind was barraged with his own memories, eyes still gleaming and wet as his voice stuck in his throat. The more he remembered her, the more this stranger looked like her. Was this some kind of punishment? He thought that they could sit there forever, their voices silent as the world eddied around them. So when Anna stood, Alaric startled. She approached to squeeze his shoulder and he was looking at her like a man who was about to watch the sun set for the last time.

She moved to the door, which opened to release her onto the platform. Crisp Autumnal air rushed through the carriage. Alaric was stuck. He wanted to follow, but to do so would surely be taking a step too far. And to do so, he would be stepping foot into the heart of the city. He did not even know where he was. He had paid no attention to the stations. And yet, as he heard the gears of the train below, the imminent sound of departure, he stood and quickly slipped through the open doors, the pressure of their closing nearly trapping him as he did so.

Behind him, the train started to crawl away. Bodies moved to and fro around him, currents in an ocean he was unfamiliar with. The voices and the images were numerous, and they weren’t all in front of him, they weren’t all loud. He hadn’t put up his mental defences, and the whole world was creeping into his head. A Harley Davidson roared past the platform, a car went past with its windows down and a thumping, hectic rap song serenaded the travellers. A suited man carrying a suitcase collided with Alaric from behind, a curt you’re standing in the ******* way uttered as another passenger brushed by Alaric’s other shoulder.

A gargled cry curled unbidden from a constricted throat. All this, and he had lost sight of his Anja. The dark haired angel had slipped from view.



A N N A
The journey home took a little longer than was usual, seeing as how she’d needed to switch modes of transport but the sense of warmth and relief she got from entering her home hadn’t changed. After stowing her gloves in her pockets and hanging her jacket in the hall cupboard, Anna set her handbag on the kitchen counter and greeted her furbabies; Sunshine and Stardust. The two Siamese cats rubbed against her calves and mewed to welcome her home, or perhaps to remind her that it was dinner time. Crouching to stroke and pet both her girls, Anna smiled to herself as she asked them questions about how their day had been, what they’d done to entertain themselves while she was away, etc. Talking to her furry companions was as natural to Anna as breathing, so much so in fact, that she no longer questioned herself for the behaviour. After all, her profession required a certain affinity for god’s creatures.

With contented cats, the tired female retreated to her bathroom, book and wine glass in hand. She slipped into the bubble bath and groaned as she got settled, allowing the stresses and strains of the day to be eased away as the soft scent of lavender and waterlily filled her senses. Book forgotten, her fingers tapped against the wine glass as she pondered the stranger on the train. It wasn’t unusual for people to approach her with questions at the station or while on the train. They asked simple things like if this was the correct platform or if she knew which station they were coming up on, that kind of thing. The conversation with Alaric had been quite different. She’d never been the subject of mistaken identity before. Oddly, the experience had left her sad. The man seemed almost dejected to discover that she wasn’t who he thought she was. Of course that wasn’t her fault, but still she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the fellow. The whole experience had been unsettling, though not as bad as perhaps it could have been as he had not been confrontational or demanding in any way. Still, she’d had to get off the train as the whole thing was unsettling in nature. Sighing, she closed her eyes, momentarily recalling the confusing colour of his eyes. Eyes open once more, she took another sip of her wine, set the glass aside and slid under the surface of the water to cleanse the events of the day away.